


The One In Which Hawke Jumps Off A Cliff

by Lypreila



Series: Kyana Hawke - The Ice Queen Cometh [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Day At The Beach, F/M, Female Hawke - Freeform, Fenris - Freeform, Fenris being silly, Fluff, Hawke - Freeform, Hawke being Herself, NO SERIOUSLY THOUGH, cliff jumping, fluff and such, the beach one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-06
Updated: 2016-07-06
Packaged: 2018-07-21 20:47:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7403737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lypreila/pseuds/Lypreila
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Let me tell you something, Fenris. Each cut I take for a friend, each time I defy an enemy, every time I do something that seems impossible, it makes me stronger. It is not strength that draws demons, it is weakness. And I will never be weak again.” </p><p>Fenris, Hawke, Isabela and Anders spend an afternoon at the beach, relaxing after a long fight with a band of mercenaries.  All goes will until Hawke decides to try cliff jumping.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The One In Which Hawke Jumps Off A Cliff

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own this stuff, but y'all already knew that, yeah?

Fenris stood at the edge of the Waking Sea, somewhat bemused by the circumstances he’d found himself in. What was supposed to be a quick bounty to increase Hawke’s funds for the Deep Roads expedition had turned into a long, protracted battle, the four of them, Hawke and Fenris, Anders and a bawdy Rivaini calling herself Isabela, chasing a talented group of mercenaries up and down the coast. At last they’d cornered themselves in a secluded cove, and been destroyed, the battle long and hard, but the reward, Hawke said while pawing through the clothes of a dead warrior, would be entirely worth it. Fenris, once the battle had subsided, found himself looking around him, awed to silence by what had to be one of the most beautiful places he’d seen yet in Thedas. The high cliffs of the coast curved towards one another here, forming a cove with high walls covered in vines and shrubs that seemed lush and green despite the oppressive heat of the Kirkwall summer. A sandy beach curved into a perfect crescent at the bottom of the cliffs, sheltering water of a deep blue green, the waves that normally beat at this part of the cost held back by the sheer rock walls. 

Anders stood off to one side, blonde hair plastered to his face, looking across the sea with a small smile. At last he moved, shucking shoes as he headed towards a large, flat rock that sat in knee-deep water, a cast off that must’ve come away from the cliffs above sometime in the last age. With a groan, he settled down, pulling his arms free from his robes before lying back on the rock, which must’ve been blisteringly hot from absorbing the heat of the day. Isabela and Hawke stepped up besides Fenris, the Rivaini looking his way curiously before calling out to the other mage. 

“Have you finally turned into a bird, Anders? Decided to roost on the rocks?” 

Hawke rolled her eyes at the awful joke, lightly elbowing Isabela in the side. 

“Good for sore muscles, Isabela. Not all of us can spend the day on our backs.” 

Hawke barked a short laugh, then clapped her hand over her mouth, eyes focused on Isabela. She seemed to be waiting for the pirate’s reaction. Isabela, for her part, wore a look of shocked offense, lips pursed tight, brows drawn down angrily. Until the corner of her frown twitched, and she doubled over, crowing laughter at the ground as she rocked back and forth. 

“That was good! Been practicing that, have you?” 

Anders rolled his shoulders in a shrug, chuckling to himself as Isabela walked over to join him on the rocks. When Fenris looked back, he was only a bit surprised to find that Hawke had vanished from his side. She’d been careful to give him any and all space he desired, and he’d learned since meeting her that Hawke could move as silently as she cared to. This, coupled with her short height and unassuming appearance, had allowed her to escape scrutiny more than once. There was even a fight with a group of mages, and afterward Fenris had wondered how dull and unimaginative the Templars in Kirkwall must be, as they seemed to expect all mages to dress in long robes and carry long sticks of wood around. Hawke herself used this to her advantage, he’d discovered, dressing in leather breeches and a shorter robe that looked like nothing more than an eccentric fashion choice, carrying her staff upside down so it seemed merely a weapon, a bladed Quarterstaff or ‘some such Ferelden nonsense’, as he’d heard one Templar put it. 

Casting his eyes about, Fenris didn’t have to wonder for long where Hawke was, because a moment later, Anders bolted upright, the color draining from his face, finger pointing at the cliff opposite them. Isabela propped herself up on one elbow, a slow grin blooming. When Fenris finally located her, he felt a pang of empathy for the mage, because he too was understandably horrified at what Hawke was doing. 

She was climbing, up cliffs that were so nearly vertical that it seemed impossible. She grasped at vines and rock, seeking the smallest footholds and clinging to them in her bare feet. At last, as the three of them stood gaping, she scrambled up onto a ledge that jutted out from the main body of the cliff, over the water, and it was then that Fenris understood what she was about to do. He raised his hand, opened his mouth to yell, but Anders beat him to it, and when he shouted his voice was an octave higher than it normally was. 

“Hawke! Maker’s breath, woman, get down from there this instant! You’ll kill yourself! And then he’ll kill me, and then Kirkwall will really be in trouble!” 

“Oh shut it, spoilsport.” Isabela interjected, wearing a grin that nearly split her face. “Carver is the younger one, remember. Plus, Hawke is technically an adult.” 

Anders snorted, clearly displaying his disagreement with that statement, and Isabela shouted through her cupped hands. 

“Do it!” 

“Are you insane?” 

“Popular opinion tends towards yes.”

“She’s going to jump.”

Both pirate and mage ceased their banter when Fenris spoke, joining in his staring. Hawke was balanced precariously on the narrow ledge, her silver-blonde hair coming loose from its bun to dance in the wind. At last she stepped forward, dropping feet-first, close to the edge of the rocks. Anders’ groan and Isabela’s shout both echoed from the cliffs, but Fenris only managed an indrawn breath. In the middle of her drop Hawke twisted, jackknifing her body so that she entered the water with her hands slicing through like a blade. She disappeared beneath the blue with barely a ripple. Fenris began to count.

_One_

_Two_

_Three_

_Four_

“Where is she?” Anders’ murmur betrayed his worry, and even Isabela had taken a step forward, shading her eyes to peer at the water. 

_Six_

_Seven_

“Damn it all to hell.” 

_Nine_

_Ten_

Just as Isabela took another step forward, pulling her daggers and various concealed blades from her person, Hawke surfaced, breaking through the water, throwing off drops that sparkled in the sun. The look on her face was one of pure exhilaration, grin stretching her face and eyes blown wide. She climbed out of the waves, casting the water from her head with a vigorous shake. 

“Well, now that I’ve done that, we can go if you’re all ready!” 

There was much laughing and chastising from the others, but Fenris kept his silence till he found himself walking alongside Hawke, the walls of the City of Chains just coming into view in the distance. She looked up at him with that small smile that whispered to him of kindness, assurances, a hand outstretched in friendship in the dark of the Kirkwall night. He swallowed, shoving down the desire to smile back, and instead nodded at her. 

“So, how do you like Kirkwall so far, Fenris? No one’s giving you any trouble, are they?” 

“Are you quite mad?” 

His own words surprised him. They surprised Hawke too, he supposed, as she hesitated, her steps faltering before once again picking up their steady rhythm. Her smile was something sadder now, and she rolled one shoulder in a shrug. 

“Perhaps. We’re all a little mad here.” 

He snorted before continuing. 

“You throw yourself in battle as though you seek death. You take blades meant for others. You collect dangerous friends and more dangerous enemies. And now you jump from a cliff, flinging yourself into oblivion as though you are indestructible. Do you think yourself immune from the call of a Demon? One time you will not be quick enough - or the mage will not be there to save you, and what wouldn’t you give then, when faced with death?” 

Hawke drew herself up to her full unimpressive height, and when she turned her eyes to him he had to suppress a shudder, so cold were they, pricking at him like shards of ice. 

“Let me tell you something, Fenris. Each cut I take for a friend, each time I defy an enemy, every time I do something that seems impossible, it makes me stronger. It is not strength that draws demons, it is weakness. And I will never be weak again.” 

With that, she dropped her eyes, hastening her steps till she caught up with Anders. Fenris walked alone, thinking about mages, and demons, and wondering what Hawke could’ve meant when she said that she would never be weak _again_.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm pretty sure this is the 2nd worst thing I've ever written, but Kudos, comments and such give me life.


End file.
